


Compartment of rainbows

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bi!Harry, Black Hermione Granger, Drarry, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Good Draco Malfoy, Homophobic Language, Indian Potter Family (Harry Potter), Internalized Homophobia, Long, Long Shot, M/M, Memories, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Minor Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, NOT A ONE SHOT, No Smut, Past Abuse, Past Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter - Freeform, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley Bashing, Sad Ending, Sad Harry, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Trauma, black trans Hermione, gay!draco, mentioned sirius black/remus lupin - Freeform, past crush, we love hermione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “It’s not selfish to cry.”Harry Potter is going somewhere. Where that is, even he doesn't quite know. He just needs to get back to the person he loves the most, the person who is waiting for him. As Harry travels to find that person, Draco Malfoy, he relives both the worst and best parts of growing up with him, through fragments of memories. Fragments, but they are enough.Each year, he was closer and closer to his rival. Each year, their relationship became deeper than remembralls and duels, than notes and tuants. Each year, he gets closer and closer to finding something. But what happens when he looks back, after all of it is over, and realizes he still hasn't found it?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	1. Alone

**Current time**  
**Hogsmeade station**

The rain struck through his thin robes, piercing his skin. It was thick. So thick. Soaking wet. It seeped right through him. 

Harry loved it.

He was alone, standing outside of the Hogwarts express. Surrounded by people, yet he was alone. 

The scarlet engine was wrapped in steam, and he knew it was toasty and warm inside, yet it was the very last place he wanted to be. He wanted to stay in the rain, far away from everybody. 

He just wanted to get to him.

“Harry!” Hermione’s voice pulled him in all sorts of directions. Little strings yanking him everywhere. It called his name, willing him to join her and ron boarding the train. For a moment, he let the slick rain consume him as he closed his eyes. Just for a moment, of course. A long, long moment. 

“Harry!”

\---------------------

**Year 3**  
**Hogsmeade**

_“Harry!”_

_“Coming!” The snow was blinding, the blizzard biting through his jacket from every angle. He trudged through the heavy white flakes until he felt the familiarity of Hermione’s arm wrapping around his._

_When Harry, Ron, and Hermione had finally made it into Hogsmeade, they were sopping wet. The snowing had died down, not that it mattered. The three of them were numb anyways._

_“Look, It’s Hagrid!” Ron exclaimed, wading away from them._

_“No, Ronald, look.” Hermione whispered sharply, stopping him. “There's the minister.” They watched as Cornelius Fudge stepped down from a horse drawn carriage, greeting madam Rosemerta and Professor McGonagle._

_“Fudge.” Ron muttered._

_“Rosmerta, my dear.” The man in question dusted himself off, as if more snowflakes wouldn’t fall back in place within a few moments. “I hope business is good?”_

_She stepped forward, shaking a small hammer at Fudge. “It would be a lot better if the ministry wasn’t sending dementors into my pub every other night!” Although sarcasm was thick on her voice, the hit of truth of her words made Harry uneasy, especially with the mention of Dementors. And with dementors, came Lupin. And Malfoy. Fucking Malfoy._

_“We have a killer on the loose!” Fudge’s excuse brought Harry drifting slightly back to reality._

_“Sirius Black. In Hogsmeade? And what would bring him here?”_

_Fudge leaned closer to her and Mcgonagall, lowering his voice. Harry swallowed, knowing which name was about to be uttered. “Harry Potter.”_

_“Harry Potter?” Madam Rosmerta was immediately hushed by both Fudge and McGonagall, but the name hadn't flown over deaf ears. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all heard them. Harry thought Mr. Weasley had told him the entire story, and perhaps he had. But the hushed whispers they were speaking in, the way they looked around to make sure nobody was within earshot… Harry had an odd feeling._

_Without thinking, he threw on his invisibility cloak and hurried towards them, just before they disappeared through the door. He followed, weaving his way through the dark and grimey pub._

_McGonagall, Fudge, and Madam Rosmerta went up a clattering, rickety set of stairs and through a chipped wooden door, unbeknownst to the fact that they were being tailed by the very student they were whispering furiously about._

_“Now,” Madam Rosmerta started, “Tell me what this is all about.”_

_“Well, now, years ago, when Harry Potter's parents realized they were marked for death,” McGonagle paused and looked up at her company, “They went into hiding. Few knew where they were. The one who did, was Sirius Black, and he told you-know-who!”_

_What the fuck? Why had Mr. Weasley so keenly left out this convenient detail of the situation? Harry would have been saddened at the mention of his parents, if there wasn’t boiling anger rising up inside of him._

_“Not only did Black lead you-know-who the Potters that night,” VOLDEMORT, Harry corrected in his mind, HIS NAME IS VOLDEMORT. “But he also killed one of their friends, Peter Pettigrew.”_

_“Peter Pettigrew?” Madam Rosmerta asked. Why were they telling her all of this? Why were they telling her, the owner of some pub, instead of Harry?_

_“Yes, little lump of a boy. Always trailing after Sirius Black.” McGonagall reminded her._

_“I remember him! Yes, never let James and Sirius out of his sight. But what happened?”_

_“Well, Peter Pettigrew tried to warn the Potters, and might have managed to had he not run into an old friend, Sirius Black!” Harry was now struggling to breath, struggling to stay standing. Meanwhile, Fudge was relaxing, pouring himself a cup of brandy._

_“Black was vicious, he didn’t kill Pettigrew. He destroyed him!” Fudge turned, and locked eyes with the two women accompanying him. He held up his pinky finger, now facing away from Harry. “A finger. That's all that was left, a finger! Nothing else.”_

_“Sirius Black may not have put his hands on the Potters but he's the reason they’re dead.”_

_Those words stung ten times more than that stupid blizzard ever could._

_“And now he wants to finish what he started.” They were talking about him, and Harry knew it. He knew it._

_“I don't believe it!”_

_“Oh! And that's not the worst of it.” Fudge was graver than ever now, and ceased to speak._

_“Sirius black was, and remains to this day, Harry Potters godfather.”_

_Harry shoved a fist in his mouth to keep himself from screaming._

_Ding. The church bells rang loud and clear in the distance. Dong. Harry stumbled. Ding. He was angry. Dong. He was so fucking angry. Ding. He ran._

_The door to the pub burst open, and he flew out, not even caring if his ankles were visible. He clutched his wand, the fury still in his body like a disease. It wouldn’t leave, and he didn’t want it to. Not until the man who was the reason for his parents’ fates was dead, just like they were._

_Ron and Hermione were, of course, gone. Probably waiting for him in Zunkos or Honeydukes. That was definitely for the better. He didn’t want them to see him this angry. But something in him still wished they were there._

_The silence was louder and louder, more and more painful as he got deeper into the woods. Nobody was coming. Which was fine. No, it wasn’t. He could take off the cloak now, he was alone. But he liked it better on._

_And, crumpled on the wet, white ground, sat Harry Potter. His hands were clenched, taking fistfuls of snow until they were nothing but melted water dripping from his fingertips. He wanted to fight, wanted to scream. He wanted to kill._

_But all he did was cry._

_Yes, boy wonder, holding onto himself because he wouldn’t let anybody else. He felt the icy tears coating his face, felt his eyes burning, tasted the salt in his mouth. He wanted to be angry, he WAS angry. So why was he crying?_

_Someone cleared their throat._

_Someone cleared their throat?_

_Harry heard himself let out a gasp, and turned around to see him. Him, of all people._

_If it hadn’t been him, Harry might have dared to move. But it was him. All he could do was stay in the uncomfortable, shriveled position under his cloak as his utmost rival stood there, trying to see where he was. All he could do was gaze at the other boy, unmoving, unbreathing, as hundreds, thousands, millions of snowflakes coated his blonde, almost invisible eyelashes._

_Yes, he was that close. So close. Much too close._

_Fuck it._

_Harry flung off the cloak._

_“Why did you follow me?” Draco Malfoy blinked, water from the melted snowflakes on his lashes dripping away. “Hello? Are you deaf?”_

_“You were crying.” Harry hadn’t expected that._

_“Okay, state the obvious, good way to start…” he scowled, but Malfoy didn’t sneer back. His mouth was still hanging open. “Going to say something, or should I leave you to gape at this clearing?”_

_“Why?” Why was he crying? Oh I don't know, Harry thought, a lot of things. For one, my dead parents. The fact that I’m being hunted by a mass murder and nobody but Ron’s dad thought it was a good idea to mention it to me. And that mass murderer just happens to be the one that sold my parents out to voldemort. And he's my godfather. Oh, and you. And you._

_“Wouldn’t you like to know.”_

_“Yes, I actually would.” Malfoy’s glare was now returning. “Or are you too embarrassed to tell me? Why, Potty? Was it another dementor?” Worse than that, actually._

_“I’d take the dementor right about now.”_

_“Would you now? How noble.” He snickered, but the taunt died on his lips as he realized none of his goons were beside him, laughing at Harry as well. Harry seemed to realize at the same time._

_“Where are Crabbe and Goyle? Why are you alone?”_

_“Why were you crying?”_

_“I asked you fi-”_

_“No, you didn’t. Why were you crying?”_

_“Why would I tell you?”_

_“Stop answering me with more questions.”_

_“Why?” Malfoy glared, but rather his ears turning red in anger like Ron, his face became slightly paler._

_“Because if you don’t, I’ll beat the shit out of you.” Malfoy seemed to become even taller, his eye narrowing, as if accepting a challenge. The change was so sudden, so unexpected though it wasn't out of character. It made Harry sick._

_“Think I can’t take you?” Who was Harry kidding, he probably couldn’t even take Colin Creevy._

_“You can’t.” Malfoy’s words just echoed Harry’s thoughts._

_A short silence passed, and the snowing seemed to die down enough for the sun to stream in, creating flecks of color in the light. Rainbows, Harry thought, keeping his eyes trained on anything but Malfoy's face._

_“I’m not telling you why I was crying.”_

_“I didn’t even ask that time.”_

_“Whatever. I wasn’t even crying.”_

_“Of course you weren’t, Golden Boys don't cry.” He scoffed. Harry was glad Malfoy was momentarily distracted by a snowflake in the palm of his hand, or he would have seen what effect his words had had. “You know what, I think I know what it is.”_

_“Why do you eve-”_

_“You didn’t let me finish, Potter.” Malfoy smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets and pretending to ponder for a moment. “You know what I think? I think, that you were crying because of your friends.”_

_“What?”_

_“Still not done talking-”_

_“Why would Hermione and Ron-”_

_“Can you not listen properly? You were crying, because your friends left you. You, the glorious Harry Potter, have some sort of a sob story. You feel excluded.” Harry almost laughed as Malfoy drawled out the word excluded._

_“You have no idea how much I wish that were the worst of my problems.” Malfoy almost seemed offended. “That was the worst guess ever. Excluded? I mean, yes, but it’s a luxury to cry over just being excluded.”_

_“Oh.” Was all Malfoy could respond with. Oh?_

_Harry turned away, and let the sun strike his face with warmth. It glowed through him, blinding his green irises with light._

_It was a while, as the two of them stood there, soaking up sun together. A while until Harry realized Malfoy had left a long time ago, probably just after he spoke. Oh._

_Flopping down into the freezing snow, he let it bite his bare neck as he looked up. He sighed in relief, because Draco Malfoy had left, probably to cower back with the safety of Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him._

_He would finally just leave Harry alone. He was gone. He was gone, and that's what Harry wanted, right?_

_Of course it was what he wanted._

_Right?_

\---------------------

 **Current time**  
**Hogwarts express**

“Harry!”

Harry climbed aboard the hogwarts express, shivering gently as a tremble went up his spine.

Because, 5 years later, he could still feel the bite of the snow on the back of his neck. 

\---------------------

 **Current time**  
**Hogwarts express**

Harry blinked. 

The windowpane was ice cold on his cheek, the landscape grey. A terrible, sickening silence refused to leave the compartment as the three of them stayed absolutely still. 

I just need to get to him. Harry repeated in his mind, wishing above anything for the train ride to be over. You’ll see him soon. He wished he never boarded with Hermione and Ron. Wished he had just stayed, standing in the rain. 

Anything was better than a whole train ride in this compartment.

\---------------------

**Just before fourth year**  
**Hogwarts Express**

_“Thanks for letting me stay over, Ron. Honestly, Anything would be better than another whole summer with the Dursleys.” Harry signed, leaning into the window. “It's brilliant to be going back.” He could feel how warm it was outside, how the sun felt on the side of his face._

__

_“Of course, mate. I don’t think mum would have it if I didn’t invite you for at least a few days.” The three of them shared a quick laugh, but all Harry felt towards Mrs. Weasley was an overwhelming sense of gratitude._

__

_“Well, I’m happy you two have recovered.” Ron scowled as she contradicted them, “It’s great, really, it’s just I can’t stop thinking about what happened at the world cup.” Hermione bit her lip, running her hands through her curly hair. “Sorry, It didn’t sound sarcastic in my head.”_

__

_Harry smiled at her reassuringly, despite the headache that was beginning to form. He realized just how worried for herself and other muggleborns she must be. “It's totally fine Hermio-”_

__

_“Suppose it never sounds sarcastic until you say it outloud.” Ron interrupted. Harry rolled his eyes. His two friends were still recovering from their argument about patronuses: Ron had sworn his would turn out as a Dragon. Hermione, rather, had remarked she thought a chicken suited him better. This would have been hilarious if neither of them had taken it to heart._

__

_“What?” Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by a shriek from Hermione, “What’s that supposed to mean?” The headache bore deeper into his skull, and it took a few seconds for Harry to realize he wasn’t breathing. When he tried to regain his intake of air, it only came back in gasps._

__

_“You idiot!” Their voices had now escalated to screams._

__

_“I can’t believe you Ronald!” He pressed a hand to his chest, for a sharp pain had just erupted there. He couldn’t believe it, it was like there was something clogging his throat. Harry Potter was going to choke to death?_

__

_“Your fucking disgusting, Hermione.”_

__

_“At least I don't get defensive about a simple charm! I was joking! Trying to make light of whats been going on!”_

__

_Yes, Harry was going absolutely insane, his consciousness drifting in and out. Were Hermione and Ron even talking anymore? Or were they just giving him concerned looks as he struggled helplessly to breathe? He had probably imagined this whole argument._

__

_“I don’t know what you're talking about! That's not what I’m upset about.”_

__

_“Then what is it, Ronald, what is it?”_

__

_“Your just so fucking annoying! Every time I-”_

__

_“Ron!” Words finally escaped Harry’s parted lips as he managed a rasping breath._

__

_“What, Harry?” His blantand response almost made Harry gag. They acted as if he hadn't been in the same compartiment as them, listening to them scream at each other. As if he had just arrived. As if he had been wearing his cloak until now._

__

_“Nothing. Have to use the lou.”_

__

_Before Hermione could even open her mouth to ask what was wrong, Harry dashed out of the sunny room and tore down the aisle. He found an empty compartment and slid the door shut much harder than he should have, before collapsing back against it._

__

_What the fuck had just happened in there?_

__

_Was that a panic attack?_

__

_Harry sank to the floor, his throbbing head in his hands. He wasn’t sad, he wasn’t crying. There wasn’t anything to be sad about._

__

_He was terrified._

__

_Like he had been every single ear of his life, even before Hogwarts._

__

_Especially before Hogwarts._

__

_Now he was standing up, pacing the room, running his hands through his wild hair. Who would be hunting him this year, he wondered? Who would be trying to kill him this time around? Hermione was right, the death eaters at the world cup were definitely connected to something. And he had a sneaking suspicion that the Malfoy’s house elf had something to do with it all. Who knows, who ever was trying to murder him this year… maybe it would work. Maybe that wouldn't be too bad…_

__

_The compartment door slid open, and Harry turned around._

__

__

_Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down._

__

_“Your… what are you doing here?”_

__

_“I could ask you the same thing, Potter.” He took a step closer. “You're in my compartment.” Harry looked around, cursing himself for not seeing the suitcase that was placed in the baggage compartment._

__

_“Oh.”_

__

_He distracted himself for a moment by watching the sun dance on the window, flooding the room with rainbows._

__

_“So? Are you going to get the fuck out of here?” Harry was suddenly reminded of his rival, standing a few feet away from him. Or rather, he was reminded that the boy a few feet away from him was his rival._

__

_“Huh?”_

__

_“I mean leave, Potter!”_

__

_“Make me, Malfoy.” Malfoy’s face turned slightly paler as his smirk dropped for a moment._

__

_“Yeah?” He stepped closer, for a second time, closing the distance between them ever so slightly._

__

_“No! I mean… erm,” Harry stumbled back a little bit, “bye.” He shoved past the boy, and heard himself let out a quick breath of shock as their shoulders collided. Quick, but he knew Malfoy had heard it._

__

_What the fuck?_

__

_Harry refused to spare a glance back, terrified of what he might see._

__

_Or maybe he was just terrified that Malfoy’s expression would be something other than hate._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys so idk if this was clear or not, but the italicized parts are basically just Harry's memories and him reflecting back, and the normal text is whats actually going on. Sorry if that didn't make sense lol


	2. To remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw: panic attack and a lot of angst

**Current time**  
**Hogwarts Express**

“What are you thinking about?” Hermione nudged Harry gently, concern showing in her deep brown eyes. “Harry?” _Stop saying my name._ He wanted to yell at her, but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. How could she know?

“Nobody.” 

“Oh, so it’s a person?” He shrugged her off, looking away so neither of them would see the water brimming his eyes. 

“Yes.” Harry whispered softly, blinking the tears away. He would never let them fall.

“You don’t have to tell us who.” She said, leaning back. 

“It’s okay, mate.” 

Harry just swallowed and closed his eyes again. 

__________

**The start of fifth year**  
**Great hall**

_“I don’t know, that new Unbridge sounds off her rocker.”_

_Hermione glared at him sternly, “Ronald don’t make fun of ment-”_

_“Yeah, yeah mental illnesses. I know, Mione.”_

_“Good, and I think it's pronounced Umbridge.”_

_“Harry, you alright?” Dean was suddenly looking at him, concerned. He felt more eyes shift to him, all worried._

_It made him sick._

_“Fine.” He grinned long enough for them to look away, and then continued to study the sleek wood of the gryffindor table with a small frown. Harry had discovered that if he often held his fork, picked up some food with it, and then set it down, nobody would notice how little he had actually eaten._

_“So how were your summers?” Ginny asked, sliding into the seat next to Harry. He smiled up at her, glad there was someone that wouldn’t act as if he was something that could easily shatter._

_“Great! Dean finally introduced me to his parents.” Seamus was smiling widely, playing with his blonde hair, which Harry had noticed he did when he was excited._

_“Seamus, they’ve known you for five years. I don’t think I’d call it an introduction.”_

_“Oh, fuck off.” The whole table laughed, and Harry gave the faintest smile._

_“What about you Harry? How was summer?” Neville’s round, freckled face was beaming at him from across the table, but all Harry felt was horror climbing from the pit of his stomach. His summer… he stopped tracing patterns in the table. The ministry, Dudley, the dementors, Cedric. Oh god, Cedric. Harry had..._

_The horror was now joined with nausea. Stickiness, vomit, or just disgust with himself. Filing his throat, climbing into his mouth. His fists clenched._

_Hermione reached across the table to snag his hand, but he pulled it away. “Harry-”_

_“Stop saying my name!” He yelled, blinded by the searing pain in his forehead. Nobody answered, letting his words echo. Had he even spoken at all?_

_The silence was interrupted by a loud screeching noise as Harry pushed back one of the benches and stumbled out of the Great Hall. Even with his glasses, his vision was barely working. He was running away, but he was also spinning. He was spinning through the masses of people and tiny first years and shocked expressions and eyes piercing with worry and people yelling his name and whispers of Cedric and stares and glares and glares and glares and-_

_And then he was in the boys bathroom._

_Vomiting his guts out._

_Because he was dead, and he couldn’t tell anybody._

_He couldn’t tell anybody how he felt._

_Because Cedric was dead._

_He wasn’t just murdered._

_He was gone._

_Harry couldn’t save him, but that was besides the point._

_It was that Harry couldn’t tell him._

_He watch as everybody cried over someone they never knew_

_They were selfish to cry. They weren’t crying for Cedric, but for themselves._

_He could watch, but he could never tell him. He would never tell Cedric. And that's why he was still throwing up, that's why he couldn’t stop thinking about his voice, the way he cared about Harry, even if it was in a completely different way. About that day in the forest, when they first met. About that graveyard. But it was also why he couldn’t cry._

_Because he would never, ever cry for himself. Because, while he was many disgusting, vile things, he wasn’t selfish._

_“Im not selfish.”_

_He heard a cracking voice mutter, between rasping breaths._

_“I won’t cry, I won’t do that. I’m not selfish.” It took a long moment for him to realize there wasn’t anybody else in the bathroom with him. The rasping voice belonged to him. “I won’t do that to Ce-” Harry slumped to the damp floor, soaking his robes. Somewhere, a faucet dripped quietly.“I won't do that to him.”_

_Harry woke up in the hospital wing, alone. It didn’t matter if people were sitting at his bedside. Maybe Ron or Hermione would come in and try to cheer him up. He would still be alone._

_Madam Pomfrey bustled in every now and then, asking Harry questions he didn’t know the answers to._

_“When can I leave?” He said meekly, after what felt like hours in the quiet, echoing room._

_“Well, you're not still having any symptoms of some kind of attack are you? Those would include, shortness of breath or choking, head pains, dizziness-”_

_“No, I’m fine now.” Harry lied, noting how much his head hurt._

_“Okay then, before I let you leave, was there anything that happened you thought could have triggered an anxiety attack?”_

_“Er, no. Just started feeling sick.”_

_“Well then, if there was no trigger, it could have easily been a panic attack rather than anxiety.” She hummed, almost to herself. “Well then, I’ll let you be off.” Harry hustled out of the bed frantically, trying desperately not to give away how fast his heart had just started beating as he stood up. “Mr. Potter,”_

_Harry turned around to face her, “It’s mandatory that you come and see me even if something small happens. Understand?” Harry just nodded in agreement under her firm gaze, before quickly scrambling out of the hospital wing. As he headed towards Gryffindor tower, he realized, looking out of the windows, the sky was already beginning to darken._

\-----------  
**Current times**  
**Hogwarts Express**

Harry opened his eyes, the cold glass against his cheek a swift reminder of where he was. He could feel the express humming beneath him as it glided over the tracks, taking them to platform 9 ¾. 

“How long until we’re there?” Ron complained from next to him. Harry shifted his position, facing his friends. 

“Ronald, we’ve only just left Hogsmeade station.” Hermione looked up from _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and sighed at Ron’s exasperation. “Seven years on this express, and you still can’t even measure time properly.” 

“Seven years.” Harry breathed, eyes still fixed on the pale light being reflected against the walls of their compartment. 

“Right. Seven fucking years.” Ron gaped, as if this was new information. “I wonder if we’ll still remember all of those moments when we’re old.” Harry drew in a sigh. 

“I will. All of it.” He whispered. 

“Every second.” Ron agreed. 

“Do you remember the first things we said to each other?” Hermione asked. They both nodded excitedly. “Has anyone seen a toad?” She started, laughing.

“A boy named Nevilles lost one.” The three of them finished in unison. Harry cracked a very small smile, thinking about Trevor and his frequent disappearances. He wondered if Neville still had him. 

Ron was now beaming, and when he spoke, his voice was equally as sentimental. “Harry, before that, remember when mum showed you how to get to the platform?” 

“Yup. And I remember the first thing you ever said to me.” Ron grinned at Harry’s words, mimicking a younger sounding voice,

“Do you mind? Everywhere else is full.” 

“And then I just said not at all. I was delighted that someone purposefully chose to sit near me, without wanting to beat me up as well.” He laughed, but the other two didn’t join in. They were both looking away, the looks on their faces something he had never seen before. It caused an odd feeling in his chest, pulling him in tightly. It was the type of thing one felt right before crying, and also right before bursting into laughter. They weren’t quite happy, but their eyes were tainted with a feeling he could only describe in one way. 

_Meminisse._

To remember. 

\------------

**The middle of fifth year**  
**The astronomy tower**

_The shadows cast by the moonlight were no strangers to Harry. He had grown rather fond of the darkness, as he spent a lot of time wrapped in a blanket of black, under his cloak or on the grounds during nightfall._

_Raised in a cupboard had at least one benefit: immunity to fear of unreal things. He was never scared of something as natural as darkness or spiders, something in a muggle movie. Even dragons couldn’t phase him anymore._

_However, as the light began to creep away, something still tugged at Harry’s consciousness. He was certain it was dread, but maybe it’s source wasn’t fear of the light leaving. Maybe it was because the more time passed, the closer he was to something. What it was, he had no idea. But it was terrifying to even let his thoughts wander. Much scarier than the waning light or monsters that could be lurking with him at the astronomy tower._

_“Potter?” Speaking of monsters._

_Harry, immediately detecting whose voice it was, whipped his wand out and pointed it directly at Malfoy, who just glared back._

_“Malfoy.”_

_Neither of them bothered asking the other what they were doing there. Harry turned away, realizing he didn’t have the energy to bicker. He heard light footsteps as Malfoy came to the banister where Harry sat, still wordless._

_Harry opened his mouth a few times, but could never quite pinpoint something to say that wasn’t a demanding question as to what Malfoy was doing. After what seemed like much too long, but could have been mere moments, Harry heard Malfoy whisper something that he couldn’t quite hear._

_“What?”_

_“Meminisse.”_

_Harry tilted his head in confusion, rubbing his thumb into his palm in a pattern, which he always did absentmindedly. Malfoy’s voice seemed to be tinted with some sort of an accent. The word sounded like a romance language, Harry remembered learning about them when he went to St. Gregory’s, his old muggle school. Latin sounded fitting._

_“Is that latin?” He blurted,_

_“Yes.” was all Malfoy said. It was extreamly weird, almost wrong, to hear Malfoy speak without a taunt. But Harry didn’t seem to mind it, almost like he had expected this._

_“What does it mean?” Even his own voice was utterly foreign._

_“To remember.” Harry’s head tilted even further in confusion, waiting for elaboration. “I remember.” Malfoy finally breathed._

_“Remember what?” What was there for him to remember? Robe shops and rememberals?_

_“You.” He whispered, “In the bathroom.” Harry’s heart plummeted,_

_“The bathroom?”_

_No response came, and for a moment, Harry thought Malfoy had left. But when he turned around, he saw that he hadn’t. As he gazed at his silvery, almost ethereal features, Harry realized he had been avoiding looking at the other boy. He also realized why._

_“Yes, the bathroom. Did you not think to ask who brought you to Madam Pomfrey after you passed out?” Harry shook his head, eyes wide in wonder. “I remember what you said.”_

_“Oh.” What had he said? He couldn’t remember, it had been months ago since his… attack. There had been something he said, something about Cedric._

_When there was no response, Harry turned again to see that this time, he was right. Malfoy was leaving, cloaked in black, yet a silver glow still outlining his darkened figure as he strode away. Harry sighed and almost looked away, before he heard Malfoy’s voice._

_He turned back, and that's when their eyes met for the first time that night. Harry felt the urge to let them wander down to Malfoy’s lips, as they had done so many times before._

_“Potter, I- You…” Malfoy trailed off for a moment, before looking as if he had just mentally made the decision to say what he had been planning to all night. “It’s not selfish to cry.”_

_And then he was gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next one is coming right away, i kinda forgot to post this one lol. Tysm for reading!


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